Memories of Forks
by xxtwilight
Summary: After Bella was changed, she revisits Forks - the town she grew up in, in so many ways. A quick one-shot of the repercussions of her actions and choices. Please R&R.


**Note: I am not Stephenie Meyer, nor do I own the Twilight series or any of their characters or plot lines.**

The silent girl wandered down the empty street leading to Forks, a small, Godforsaken town on the outskirts of Washington. With wavy tendrils of silky brown hair reaching the small of her back, impossibly high-set cheekbones, and wide, brown eyes fringed by the blackest of lashes, standing in stark contrast with the ghostlike paleness of her face, she was a beauty. It seemed unnatural and strange—to say the least—that a girl of her means was in this part of town. Her face, in all its breathtaking glory, seemed to belong on the cover of a magazine, not on the streets of Forks.

Yet she walked on, oblivious to the peculiarity. If anyone had seen her—which they wouldn't have, of course, for she would have smelled them miles away—they would have thought her expression to be impassive, bored, and unseeing. But those who knew her well would have seen the telltale signs of her misery—her downcast eyes, only looking up occasionally as she passed a landmark or other, the careful nonchalance of her face, and her too-brisk pace.

Minutes after entering Forks, she reached a nondescript house, its white paint chipping from gradual neglect over the years. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of _home_. It was a soothing mixture of grass, earth, and… was there something else?

_Humans. _She didn't recognize their scents.

Of course. She should have known there would be humans here. It had been _thirty_ years since she had last visited this place, and it was only natural that the state had claimed the land. She would have been surprised if it hadn't.

Yet… she suddenly felt uneasy. She could not pinpoint the reason behind her discomfort, and she felt instinctively opposed to this idea. Was it nostalgia? She should have gotten over that feeling _years_ ago when she had chosen this life of perpetual night. Of course, she did _not_ regret her decision. The man that brought her into this life—her reason for existence—made all the pain bearable and more. He was her husband and mate—the true core of her soul, and, though she was the only exception to his mind-reading ability, he was the only person who could truly read her soul. This was why she loved him—_needed _him, more than life itself—and he loved her.

He also understood why she insisted on coming back.

It was a stupid thing to do, and she knew it, as she had always told him. But after a year of her change, she needed to return home—even to simply _lay eyes_ on the house where she grew up, in so many ways.

More than anything, she wanted to see the people in her other life. The life that no longer belonged to her.

Her first visit as a "guardian angel," as he liked to call her, was quite informative. Apparently, Jessica had married at the young age of twenty-two, and now lived across the street from Angela, who had also married and raised three children by the time she was thirty-two.

Her first visit was the most difficult, also, in many ways.

Retired police chief _Charlie Swan_ had died of a stroke at grand age of seventy-four. Apparently, his ten-year depression, a result of his daughter's fatal accident, was a major factor in his death.

Though_ he_ adored her and understood her perfectly—perhaps better than she knew herself—he could do nothing to help mitigate her pain after that first visit, other than hold her every time she cried.

x

"I… I'm not sure what I can do to help him," Jacob admitted, reaching for his father's hand. Billy Black frowned—an unsatisfied expression that seemed to be permanently etched on his face. He was afraid that there was little he could do to help his friend cope with the loss of his daughter, whose name and story had become an unspoken 'taboo' in Forks and La Push.

Ever since Bella's wedding and cheerful I'm-off-to-college-in-Alaska routine, life in Forks had been dull for Jacob. He had _missed _her terribly—more than he would have admitted.

Yet, when the inevitable accident rolled around—Bella needed an excuse to simply 'disappear,' as she was still a thirsty newborn who was unable to be around humans for lengthy periods of time, let alone in actual physical contact, like hugging and such—Charlie had been crushed. The 'car accident' had been fatal—both, the passenger and driver, had been killed in an instant, feeling no pain at all. The sleet on the road left over from a snow storm had simply caused the Alaskan suburban to veer off course, heading straight for the side of the cliff.

"Poor old man, missing his daughter like hell. Don't know what I can do to help, though." Billy replied sadly, who silently prayed that Charlie should learn to cope with Bella's loss—who both Jacob and Billy knew was an absolute hoax.

x

"Please—oh my God..." she sobbed tearlessly, her face buried in Edward's chest as his arms constricted around her, pulling her to him. At least now she didn't have to worry about ruining his shirt with her salty tears, though she was sure Edward wouldn't have cared, as his face was twisted from the pain of watching hersuffer from the news of her father's death.

"He—shouldn't have—gone like that. I—should have—been there…" she trailed off as her sobs grew more hysterical, and her breathing grew labored as she could not seem to locate her lungs. Every time she hiccupped between sobs, Edward would rub her back and arms sympathetically, his simple movements providing enough reassurances to quiet the sobs and shrieks to pathetic little moans and whimpers.

She lay in his arms for an immeasurable amount of time, her mind torn between staying here, in his family's home in Chicago forever, and going back to visit the little old house in Forks where she stored so many memories. Perhaps _seeing_ it again would help ease her pain… or help bring some measure of acceptance, at least.

She decided to stay in Edward's arms. She could always go back to visit the inoffensive little house in ten years… or twenty… or even thirty.

What were a few decades when you had an eternity to share with the one you loved most?

x

"Mary Claude! Get the heck down here… your dinner's getting cold!" Quincy called, sounding exasperated. Quincy, technically, was the Claudes' cook and housemaid, but was really a part of the family. She was Mary Claude's best friend and confident, and had been for the past six years—ever since she began working for the family. Now, at the grand age of fifteen, Mary Claude was suffering from a bit of teenage angst, as loud, beat-filled music could often be heard emanating from her room.

Quincy's friendship with Mary Claude allowed her certain freedoms—for one, she had Mrs. Claude's full permission to scold Mary Claude, especially when she ignored repetitive requests to 'come down for dinner.'

"Coming, Quincy!" Mary Claude yelled from her bedroom, though she made no move to approach. Her clothes lay in piles on the wooden floor, which was shiny and reflective—a result of its recent glaze, as her mother had an annoying habit of 'beautifying' their new home.

Mary Claude had liked the house just the way it was when they had moved.

She had lived in this house for three years—long enough to grow familiar with the small town of Forks. Forks was quite the 'sleep-inducer,' as Quincy like to put it, who had, like Mary Claude, also grown up in a large city.

But it did have a certain… charm to it, she had to admit.

When her family had first moved, Mary Claude had found it difficult to sleep at night in her room, knowing it used to belong to a girl who had died in a catastrophic accident. Mary Claude's eyes would stay wrenched open late into the night, and even a light scratch or rustling of leaves from outside would render her breathless, as she cowered beneath her bed cover in terror.

It was not what frightened her the most, though.

Six months after the move—long enough that Mary Claude outgrew her childish fears of the house—Mary Claude had been sitting in her room, studiously scribbling away in her notebook.

Feeling suddenly distracted, she had glanced up, and her eyes flickered to her window. What she saw there made her gasp and difficult to stifle a scream.

The face of an angel loomed outside of her window, and stood in stark contrast with the darkness outside. Her flawless skin—luminous and bright despite its deathly paleness—frightened Mary Claude, whose eyes _hurt _to look at such impossible degrees of beauty. Ringlets of dark, mahogany hair framed the angel's face, blending in with the blackness surrounding her.

Her face was haunting in its strange beauty, and, though Mary Claude was deathly afraid—so much that her hands shook and her pulse raced—she could not bring herself to look away from the heavenly face outside her window.

Then, it vanished.

Mary Claude found herself staring into the darkness that was outside, and seeing no exquisite beauty—one that may have been a product of her imagination, or an attempt at distraction from her studies, as she later told herself.

Yet she could never shake the feeling that the angel had really been there.

* * *

Hey guys! **Please** let me know how you liked this one. I wanted to do a quick one-shot on the possible outcomes of Bella's change into a vampire, and how the people in her life would react.

Please leave me a review letting me know what you think. Constructive reviews are _**so**_ helpful and I wish there were more people leaving them.

Let me know if this sort of writing (emotional and thinking-based, rather than dialogue and action-based) is more effective, especially when talking about more serious things, like the repercussions of Bella's change.

Thanks so much to all of my **_amazing_** reviewers!

-xxtwilight


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